


Desolation Row

by hailsatxn, IdjitSherlockian



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: And gee is in a gang, M/M, basically punk frank
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8871478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailsatxn/pseuds/hailsatxn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdjitSherlockian/pseuds/IdjitSherlockian
Summary: December 11th, 1981“HEY!” The yell came from across the street from the open door of a bar. The neon lights in the windows flashing with promises of cold beer and live music. Frank raised his head, squinting to see who was shouting at him. “Yeh?” Frank yelled back, his voice slightly muffled through the cigarette hanging from his lips. Through the light of the full moon, Frank spotted a group of three men standing in the entrance of the club. Frank’s friends ceased their conversation, turning to watch the exchange. “The fuck you think you’re doing over there?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hailsatxn wrote this whole chapter

December 11th, 1981

“HEY!” The yell came from across the street from the open door of a bar. The neon lights in the windows flashing with promises of cold beer and live music. Frank raised his head, squinting to see who was shouting at him. 

“Yeh?” Frank yelled back, his voice slightly muffled through the cigarette hanging from his lips. Through the light of the full moon, Frank spotted a group of three men standing in the entrance of the club. Frank’s friends ceased their conversation, turning to watch the exchange. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing over there?” The man questioned, ashing his cigarette. He was average height, medium build, with a mane of jet black hair. His legs were clad in ripped jeans, despite the freezing temperatures. He wore a leather jacket over layered red and black distressed t-shirts. Frank could see bruising along his right temple, along with butterfly stitches over his eyebrow.

“I’m standing, the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” Frank answered, his friends snickering at his response. 

“You think you can just stand wherever the fuck you want, fun sized?” The man called back, his combat boots crunching on the thin layer of snow on the road. His own cigarette was flicked to the side as his friends followed him across the street. One was tall with what seemed to be a never ending mass of curly hair. A white t-shirt under a leather jacket similar to the raven haired man’s, and black jeans seemed to be a running theme for these guys. The other guy followed closely behind the leader, his brown hair combed back behind his ears. And again, a leather jacket! What, are these guys a gang or something? The brown haired man took a swig from his beer as the chains hanging from his belt rattled. Frank rolled his eyes and ashed his cigarette.

“I’m pretty sure this is fuckin’ america, man. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Frank laughed, leaning against the brick wall behind him. His best friend, Pete, leant next to him, laughing. 

“Nah, you’re in my part of town, so you’re gonna listen to me.” The black haired man stated. Frank rolled his eyes as the man got closer. 

“Yeah, says who.” Frank laughed, his other friends Josh and Brendon laughing with him as they moved in closer, ready to jump in if a fight started.

Fights were common for Frank and his friends. Frank never really knew when to keep his mouth shut, and sometimes people would try to fix that. Their little group was used to it. Frank was a leader of sorts, not that they were a gang or anything. They were actually a band. Josh played the drums when he wasn’t too busy spray painting the sides of buildings near the train tracks or billboards on the freeway. Brendon was their singer, if he ever showed up to practice. He was normally out getting high, leaving Frank to sing and play guitar. Frank wrote most of the music, while Pete played bass and wrote the lyrics. 

“Listen, short stack. I suggest you move along. What are you, twelve?” The leader said, and Frank snorted.

“Seventeen, but thanks for that. Really nice to be told I kept my good skin.” Frank laughed, taking another drag off his cigarette. 

“Come on Frank, it’s not worth it.” Josh laughed, tapping out his own cigarette on the bottom of his Doc Martens. Frank ignored him though, stepping right into the leader’s space, looking up at him.

“Can I at least know who the fuck’s tryna kick my ass?” Frank smirked, cigarette hanging from his lip again, right next to his lip ring. 

“Gerard.” The man glared down at Frank as he spit out his name. He gestured over his shoulder to his left. “That’s Ray.” He gestured over his right shoulder. “Mikey.”

“Alright, well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have better things to be doing than be threatened by three wannabe mobsters.” Frank smirked again, before taking the cigarette from his mouth and tossing it to the pavement. He crushed it under his boot as he blew the smoke into Gerard’s face. “Have a good night.” 

Frank turned to walk away, but was pulled back by the collar of his own leather jacket. “The fuck did you just say?” 

“Hands off.” Frank said angrily as Gerard forced him to look at him. Gerard ignored his statement, grabbing Frank by the collar of his Black Flag shirt. 

“I asked you what the fuck you just said.” Gerard spit, glaring down at Frank. Behind him, his friends Ray and Mikey moved closer, watching Frank’s friends do the same. Pete’s hand traveled to his back pocket slowly, searching for his switchblade. Josh did the same, but in search of his brass knuckles.

“The fuck’s your problem?” Pete asked, his eyebrows pulled together in anger. Gerard’s eyes never left Frank’s

“Better watch your mouth.” Mikey spit violently, locking eyes with Pete. Pete took a step towards the lanky man, but Brendon held his leather clad arm out. 

“Are you gonna answer me?”Gerard questioned. Frank glared at him, staying silent. “Stay the fuck away from this part of town, this is our territory. This is your only warning.” 

He tossed Frank forcefully to the ground, before turning and marching back towards the bar. Pete stretched out a hand, helping Frank to his feet. 

“C’mon man, let’s go back to my place. I bet I can get some of my dad’s beer.” Pete said, and Frank nodded. They started towards Pete’s car, a beat up ‘73 camaro, the black paint peeling in places. The heating was touchy, and the driver’s side window didn’t roll down, but it ran and the radio worked so Pete was happy with it. It wasn’t like any of the boys could complain though, Pete was the only one of them with a car. They got in the car, Brendon and Josh occupying the backseat, Frank in the passenger’s. Pete started the car, Black Flag’s ep “Six Pack” blaring through the speakers. As he pulled away from the curb, Frank got an idea. Rolling down the window, a grin filled his face.

As they passed the group of men from earlier, Frank hung out the window. “Better stay on that side of the street motherfucker! I’ll knock you out!” 

A chorus of laughter filled the car as Pete gunned it down the New Jersey street. Frank pulled out a cigarette from the pocket of his patch covered jacket, snatching Pete’s zippo from the cup holder once it was securely between his lips. “You really think you can get beer from your dad?” Brendon yelled from the backseat. He stole the cigarette from Frank and took a hit before returning it. 

“Yeah, we’ll just have to get Billie to buy us another case before my ‘rents get back from Chicago.” Pete replied. Frank kicked his feet up on the dash as he did so. 

“Why don’t we just get the beer from Billie directly.” Josh questioned, pulling out a joint from his, well Frank’s, camo jacket pocket. He handed the joint to Brendon and ran a hand through his dark brown mohawk. 

“Shit...why haven’t we been doing that?” Frank raised an eyebrow at Pete, who tossed a glance at him. Pete shrugged, stopping the car at a stop sign.

“I dunno man, we can just call him when we get to my house.” Pete shrugged at that, pulling through the light cautiously. Frank nodded, taking the joint Brendon was holding out to him, trading him the cigarette. “Will you guys be careful with that shit? My mom had to borrow my car last week and she said it smelled like weed.” Pete stated. 

Brendon nodded his head, trading the cigarette for the joint back, and Frank made a show of blowing the smoke out of the window. Pete rolled his eyes and pulled into his driveway, turning the radio down. The group of boys made their way from the car to the door fairly easily, considering the amount of ice on the sidewalk. Pete opened the door, the air being filled with loud barking. “Pandora! Marley! SHHH!” He yelled, trying to quiet the dogs. Frank shut the door behind himself, before taking off his jacket. 

“You know where the phone is man, go ahead.” Pete gestured to the kitchen, and Brendon nodded, making his way to the phone. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Josh and Frank followed Pete, leaving Brendon in the kitchen. While they trudged up the stairs, Frank’s thoughts wandered to the man from earlier. Who was he? Why was he so territorial? Was he actually in a gang? Was he gonna come after Frank now? Frank shook his head, it didn’t matter, he was never gonna see the guy again anyway. The only reason they were standing across from that bar anyway was because they were standing outside their practice space. Wait, if that was in ‘Gerard’s part of town’, would he actually see him again? 

“Shit guys, what if we see Gerard again?” Frank voiced his worries as Pete pushed his bedroom door open.

“It’s cool man, he won’t do anything. Did you see him? He looked weak as shit.” Pete laughed. Josh nodded, flopping down on a beanbag in the corner of Pete’s room. 

“Yeah, the only one who was mildly concerning was the curly haired one, Ray I think.” Josh agreed, “He seemed like the only one who could do any real damage. That other one was just a stick with eyes.” 

Frank let out a snort, sitting himself in Pete’s desk chair. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure they won’t even be a problem.”

“Yeah man, don’t even worry about it. Plus, we got your back.” Pete assured him, laying on his messy bed, hands behind his head. 

Frank nodded, before leaning over to switch on Pete’s TV, “Hey man, you been watching MTV? Music videos twenty four hours a day, shit’s insane.”


End file.
